long tall grass
by Bag Of Badgers
Summary: There is a time for quick and hard and rough, but it isn't now. GerIta, not safe for kiddos, sappy.


Feliciano's laughter rings out into the warm air as Ludwig's hands creep up underneath the hem of his shirt, and he's _so_glad Ludwig suggested a picnic, and that Feliciano brought some wine, and that the Tuscan countryside is so warm and conducive to Ludwig drinking (not a lot- he's not drunk, just relaxed) because when Ludwig is relaxed and warm Feliciano gets cuddled, and the weather is beautiful and the grass smells like sun, gold and green, and Feliciano runs his hands up Ludwig's arms and digs his bare toes into the soil, pushing the two of them off the blanket and into the grass. He smiles broadly, dipping his head down until he and Ludwig are nose-to-nose, and settles further atop the sturdy body.

"Nice day," Feliciano hums, stretching until his back curves and his palms press into the warm earth and grass. He moves his head down to the crook of Ludwig's neck, supremely content with the world at large and especially the feeling of his partner's arms around his back. "I'm so happy we decided to make the jump out here— it's beautiful, isn't it?"

Ludwig agrees, and his voice rumbles in his chest, and Feliciano giggles because Ludwig said "Yes, yo—" before backtracking.

It might be beautiful, but it's also very hot and Feliciano wants nothing more than to take off his clothes and lie in the grass just touching, and he decides that Ludwig must be too warm as well and besides his tank top is stopping the touching, so he slips his fingers up Ludwig's abdomen beneath the shirt and feels how the muscles there buckle at the touch and then stills his hands because Ludwig just lifted Feliciano's head and kissed him.

It's not a heated, passionate, need-you-now kiss, it's fairly chaste and slow, just lips to lips sweetened by a little wine, but it makes Feliciano's heart flutter nonetheless. Ludwig holds his head in place- well, not exactly holds, it's just a few fingers lifting his face under the chin- and Feliciano deepens the kiss and tangles Ludwig's cornsilk hair in his soil-stained fingers and their noses bump together but he doesn't mind. They're both a little breathless, partly from kissing and partly because Feliciano managed to convince Ludwig to play football earlier before it got too warm (and almost beat him at it, so _ha_) and he doesn't want to move at all from his space on top of Ludwig in the grass and noonday sun.

Feliciano moves his fingers down to hold the straps of Ludwig's green tank top and pulls his head back just enough to see the sunlight catch on Ludwig's eyelashes as he opens his eyes and smiles fondly, and he knows that look is mirrored on his own face, and he also sees the red on Ludwig's nose and shoulders that has nothing to do with embarrassment.

"You sunburned a little," and he pokes Ludwig's nose, making him scrunch it up a little. Ludwig shrugs.

"It doesn't hurt."

And he kisses Feliciano again, and Feliciano relaxes into the feeling of Ludwig finally not being hesitant for once even if his hands are still tentative and slow on Feliciano's back. It's still Feliciano who rolls them over, relishing his land solid and warm beneath him and Ludwig solid and warm above him and the warm and still air around him, and he presses into Ludwig's every touch and coaxes him further down into the long grass. Ludwig makes an odd stifled noise at Feliciano's hand under his shirt and tongue in his mouth, pulling away enough to speak, although not far because Feliciano's other hand is tangled in his hair.

"You— you'll get grass stains," he says, and Feliciano can tell he's blushing even from this distance, and his words tickle on Feliciano's lips and Feliciano chuckles and pulls Ludwig back down, accepting Ludwig's weight and the addition of a few more clothes to the laundry basket when they get home. He keeps his hand under Ludwig's shirt, running it up and down over muscle and spine and shoulderblades and warm skin and the dip at the small of his back. The sun is too hot for the kisses to be anything but lazy and soft, and Feliciano wouldn't have it any other way- there is a time for quick and hard and rough but it isn't now, not in the fresh grass and thick air, not with Ludwig's lips at his jawbone and fingers at his sides, not with the surprised noise Ludwig makes at the first slow roll of Feliciano's hips.

"Feli, someone might—" Ludwig begins, raising his head again.

Feliciano cuts him off. "Hardly anyone ever comes here, it'll be okay." And he tries to pull Ludwig closer again, but-

"Do you have—" Nodding, Feliciano takes a hand off Ludwig and begins fishing in his pants pocket, eventually emerging with a condom and a small container of lube and pressing them into Ludwig's hands.

He furrows his brow at them. "Did you— you planned this."

"Maybe." Feliciano gives Ludwig his most winning smile and digs his bare feet into the ground again, trying to nudge Ludwig into moving.

Ludwig laughs then, low and clear, and it makes his teeth show and his bright blue eyes crinkle at the corners, and he says "You are _unbelievable_," leaning down to kiss Feliciano again, deep and warm and both laughing a little and Feliciano can't resist rolling his hips again because it feels like sunlight all the way through him. He reaches down to start undoing his Bermudas, and Ludwig reaches down as well to help and Feliciano decides right then that Ludwig's pants need to come off this instant, and by the time his own pants and boxers are off he's managed to get Ludwig's to about knee level, and Ludwig kicks them the rest of the way off, and Feliciano grabs him by the hips and pulls him close again, shaking at the contact and the wave of warmth it sends through him.

There are fingers tracing down the inside of his thigh, slick and just a little cold, and Feliciano nods his assent to Ludwig and sighs and _mm_s when Ludwig slides a finger in, stretching his legs out and curling his toes. Ludwig glances at his face, a silent _are you all right_ that isn't really necessary but Feliciano mouths _yes, yes_anyway and presses his hips up into the familiar stretch, welcoming it, and the long grass is soft underneath him and it is so, so warm.

Feliciano tips his head back, and he knows there'll be grass in his hair, and he doesn't care at all because Ludwig's fingers slowly twist and crook inside of him. His shirt has ridden up to somewhere around his ribcage and, thankfully, so has Ludwig's, and Ludwig bends low over him and mouths at his neck and _oh_it feels good, so good, and Feliciano clutches at Ludwig's shoulders. Eventually Ludwig pulls his fingers out and Feliciano groans in discontent, but reaches up and helps him put on the condom anyway, and runs his hands up Ludwig's back and wraps his legs around his waist as Ludwig begins pushing in, and another wave of warmth sweeps from his toes all the way up to the roots of his hair and it makes him grin and twist his hips up.

Slowly, gently, Ludwig begins thrusting- he's always gentle with Feliciano, gentle and careful and cautious, like he's afraid Feliciano will snap or break if he's not careful, as if Feliciano is some sort of precious thing that Ludwig isn't quite sure how to handle, and Feliciano means to tell him that he really doesn't need to worry because he would never- could never- hurt Feliciano, and that thought makes him smile even wider and kiss Ludwig until his lips ache a little and Ludwig's hands are in Feliciano's curly hair and he moves slowly and evenly and they sigh and groan together quietly.

He's definitely going to get grass stains, Ludwig isn't rough but he certainly is thorough and Feliciano is extremely cooperative in this regard, but he really can't think of any reason why the shirt (he never really liked it, anyway) could be more important than this, than Ludwig's lips on his and their chests pressed so close together that Feliciano can feel Ludwig's heart beating so quickly and the smell of grass and earth and sun and the two of them and he wishes he were in a position to see more of Ludwig but Feliciano is _not_going to complain at all about this.

They say silly, breathless things to each other, silly things in German that make Feliciano laugh and take a hand from Ludwig's back to hold his hand instead and silly things in Italian that make Ludwig chuckle and nose at Feliciano's jaw, little nothings and endearments and once or twice jokes that make Feliciano laugh and groan and stick his tongue out a bit all at the same time, and Ludwig's slow, steady pace couples with him taking his free hand out of Feliciano's hair and dragging it down to wrap around him and Feliciano tosses his head back and gasps and pushes forward into Ludwig's hand.

Feliciano wishes he weren't so close, but he can't stop himself from thinking and every time he looks up at Ludwig (who's close as well, Feliciano knows by the way he bites his lip and squeezes Feliciano's hand) he can't help thinking that Ludwig, powerful kind solid intelligent just-a-little-naive _really_good-looking Ludwig (who could really do better than silly flighty little Feliciano if Feliciano's honest with himself and in a bad mood, the kind that Ludwig talks him out of as best he can) wants to do this with Feliciano and only Feliciano, that Ludwig who's usually so shy of touching is okay with Feliciano kissing him and holding him, and the warmth of these thoughts mingles inside him with the warmth of arousal and the warmth of the sun and he presses kisses to every inch of Ludwig he can reach. He's so full, of Ludwig and warmth and love and this muted but strong joy, that it makes his breath come fast and his arms and legs tremble and his back arch, and Ludwig's hand moves faster and his face is pressed into the side of Feliciano's neck and Feliciano breathes _I love you_again and again into the clean air.

When Feliciano comes, sighing and smiling and holding on to Ludwig, everything seems to go soft and quiet and bright for a moment, like the whole world's been doused in sunlight, and it's only a few moments more (it could be more, Feliciano can't tell) before Ludwig shudders and stills, panting. They remain like that, nestled close to each other as they catch their breath, long enough for the familiar slow, logy, full feeling to settle in Feliciano's stomach and relax all his limbs and make his eyelids heavy. Somehow, he finds the energy to try and roll them over.

If Feliciano reaches and strains his fingers, he can grab a few of the paper napkins out of the picnic basket, and he passes them to Ludwig, who wipes the two of them off and wraps the condom in them before sticking them back under one corner of the basket and trying to put his boxers back on without jostling Feliciano too much. It doesn't really work, but he gets them back on somehow and Feliciano stretches atop him once more, then cuddles into his chest and smiles at the arms wrapped around him.

"There's grass in your hair," Ludwig mumbles, and he starts trying to comb it out of the curls with his fingers, and Feliciano looks down at him- still blushing and a bit sunburnt and bright-eyed and messy-haired- and falls for him all over again, legs tangled together in the long, tall grass and hot sun.


End file.
